


ten pieces of a lifetime

by Elvent



Category: Shiki (Anime & Manga), Shiki - Ono Fuyumi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, The domestic life, Toshio/Seishin domestic shenanigans nothing new but less zombie, by that it means they live outside Sotoba in 201X or so, they have HANDPHONES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvent/pseuds/Elvent
Summary: Two men who aren't quite young anymore, living and loving.
Relationships: Muroi Seishin/Ozaki Toshio
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	1. Bed

Seishin has been chasing a deadline for some time, and as it draws close he begins to pull four all-nighters in a week. He starts to not really take notice of his surroundings, nose buried in his manuscripts and so many reference books and notes his small office begins to look like a burglar has ransacked it. Toshio looks like he wants to say something about it, but one look at the bags under his eyes and his near delirious state has him pulling a pitying face – but then he makes a whole more batch of coffee just for him which is most helpful.

On the third all-nighter of the week, his heater suddenly breaks down. This forces him to relocate to the living room for the time being, but his tiredness, manuscripts already in a wrapping-up stage, and the comfortably warm kotatsu has lulled him into sleep sometime after two in the morning, body tucked snugly under it. He’s completely dead to the world until around five-thirty.

Waking up, he gradually notices that it’s warmer and more snug around him. Then he registers the hard edges that shouldn’t be there underneath the thick, fluffy blanket, and apparently it’s Toshio being huddled close to his spine with one of his legs tangling around his for extra warmth. He has his arms tucked close in a confined space, but he certainly doesn’t seem bothered. Toshio is an unexpectedly calm sleeper; so unlike the typical thunderstorm of his wakefulness, and Seishin feels warmth rising in his heart at the sight of it which unfortunately makes the kotatsu almost too hot, but he holds it out until it’s time for Toshio to be awake. 

(Seishin certainly makes a mental note to stop pulling an all-nighter at the repeated sidelong look on Toshio’s face, though he wonders if he’s going to put it into words. But then Seishin is also the same for not inquiring, isn’t he?)

The morning plays out uneventfully. Seishin has coffee ready – made by expensive but much beloved and heavily invested in coffeemaker, and simple breakfast of toast and egg and miso soup. Out of bathroom, Toshio looks at the food like he almost sings praises to it, which makes Seishin feel worse at how neglectful he’s been even if none of them are great cooks.

“Is your manuscript done? It must be if you could sleep and prepare breakfast.” Typical Toshio, blunt and sarcastic at the same time.

“Not really, but I will manage… and I’ve been neglectful, I’m sorry.” Seishin solemnly says. Toshio’s been busier these days and has also been preparing to return to medical school for residency. Knowing him, he must have eaten pretty badly this past week. They don’t exactly have clear divide of chores or responsibilities, but some things just fall naturally that it can be hard to adjust if one of them decides not to be up for it. For example, Toshio is particular about laundry.

“Heh. You better do better at your deadlines. What’s it about authors and ‘natural rhythm’?” Toshio points the chopsticks at him like a bird’s beak going on an attack. 

“‘Authors doing author thing’?” Seishin supplies.

“Tsk.” Toshio attacks at an egg yolk. Its half-raw inside oozes out, rich yellow and warm. “You better make it up to me. I want curry tonight, and pickles.”


	2. Food

Miwako has announced over the phone that she was going to send them a package, and so Seishin has been expecting it to arrive for a few days. It’s surprisingly large, and he’s hit by a wave of nostalgia at the sight of his and Toshio’s childhood food carefully packed in it – assortment of local-made snacks and sweets, pickles Miwako made herself which are Yamamura family specialty, two bottles of essential oils Toshio likes, a package of Sotoba-made miso, and some bacon made from Kagoshima’s local pork. 

Thinking for some time, he texts Toshio who’s at the hospital.

‘Mother’s package has arrived. We have rice crackers, dried squids, seaweed snacks… pickles and bacon…’

Toshio’s reply comes really fast, which means he’s currently free. ‘Oh shit, I want to eat them now!’

‘…Do you want me to bring some for lunch?’

The answer to that is obviously fuck yes so Seishin packs up two easy bento of rice, ramen eggs he’s had marinating in the fridge, bacon wrapped asparagus, some salad, pickles and a package of dried squids. Setting out on a bike, the hospital where Toshio works is only ten minutes away – and he arrives just in time for lunchbreak. 

On his way to their usual lunch spot near the backyard, Seishin meets a nurse who often works with Toshio. Nurse Ritsuko also came from Sotoba, so there seems to be a feeling of solidarity between them as country people who are trying to thrive in a big city like Fukuoka. Nurse Ritsuko looks somewhat apologetic as she stops a bit to talk to him. “The doctor is being held up by the professor, so he’ll probably be a bit late.”

“Ah, thank you…”

“He looked cranky about it because it was so close to lunchbreak and you were already on your way with lunch! Please soothe him when he appears, or he’ll unleash it on the patients. I will take off now.” She laughs a bit, waving at him as she walks in the direction of cafeteria with another nurse. Seeing how she acts, Seishin is hit by sudden consciousness that she is probably sharing an internal secret only him and Toshio know of. Not knowing how to process that, Seishin just huddles further into his warm coat. 

Toshio appears after thirteen long minutes, cursing up storm – but he brightens up at the sight of Seishin, already sitting in their usual corner. Fukuoka winter is cold and bleak unlike Kagoshima’s milder one, but the sitting spot has been warmed up by the little sun they have – and so it’s pretty adequately warm by the time Toshio is seated, even though he must still feel the cold from being rather inadequately dressed as he went straight out of the building.

Seishin just soundlessly loops his scarf around Toshio’s neck as the man opens up the bento with gusto, moaning at the sight of familiar food.

“Ooh, this one is my favorite…” Toshio grins widely as he munches on a pickle. Miwako has packed many kinds of pickles to eat throughout the winter, as how the habit goes from her side of family. “Your pickle game isn’t at this level yet. You have to practice more.”

Seishin wants to roll his eyes at that. “Yes, yes…”

“The egg is good. The bacon should be a crispier. Good that you didn’t put garlic anywhere in it at all.”

Toshio doesn’t really like garlic. Seishin shakes his head lightly as he munches on his perfectly cooked food. “If you’re really particular about your food, you can also cook it yourself.”

Toshio just holds his chin high, adamant. “No, you have to cook it for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No i don't rly know how fukuoka winter is actually like im sry. sotoba looks like it's closer to my own place indonesia tho, kagoshima is p hot.


	3. Sweater + Bath (+ Kiss)

Having moved to a colder place, Toshio and Seishin now own a lot of warm clothes. They’re usually seen scattered around the apartment; a coat neglected after going back into warmer air, a scarf hanging in the kitchen of all places, a jacket lodged behind couch pillows, and so many random socks they don’t even know who owns which. Among them, sweaters are top favorite to wear – convenient especially when they want to save on the electricity bill.

There’s one sweater Seishin really likes. It’s a genuine wool, cozy dark color, and a big turtleneck to make it even warmer. It’s now in a basket in the washing area, and he almost can’t wait to wear it again after he’s done soaking in a hot bath, and to sink under a kotatsu with warm cocoa at hand. He’s much more a coffee person but he knows it’s not even the right moment for coffee.

After probably thirty minutes he hears Toshio entering the washing area and calling after him. “Oi, you aren’t done yet? The documentary you said you wanted to watch is nearly on.”

He shouts a bit from under a hot mist. “I’ll be there in one minute.”

There’s a ‘hmm’ as a reply but Toshio doesn’t leave the washing area for some time. Seishin doesn’t really think about it, since Toshio is probably dealing with the laundry. There’s definitely some sound of fabric being shuffled around. Since Seishin kind of refuses to handle laundry the way Toshio most prefers it (mainly because he doesn’t really understand how), Toshio has finally relented to take care of it – if not his own – instead. His skin is unfortunately quite sensitive to many fabrics and softeners, one of the reasons he usually only wears the same T-shirt and jeans over and over back in the day.

Seishin exits the bathroom not long minutes after Toshio left, sneezing at the sudden drop in temperature. Quickly drying his body, he turns to the basket where his clothes lays in wait – before noticing that something is very wrong indeed.

He’s known Toshio all his life. He doesn’t remember a time where Toshio isn’t in it, being neighbors of the same age – and he’s even sure his earliest memory is about them playing together even though it’s very hazy and there was probably some elaborate prank involved. Aside from being close childhood friends, they were also close friends and classmates growing up. Therefore, it stands to reason that he knows Toshio very well. He’s aware of what he likes and dislikes, his bad and good habits, how he treats people, his liking cats and dogs even though he’s a bit allergic to them, how he turns considerably clingy (only to him) when he’s sick, his favorite scent, the sound of his breather and snoring at night – and he’s also sure he knows all-and-around patterns of his impulsive pranks. And yet, there seems to be something new developing every few days.

Sighing resignedly but annoyed at the same time, Seishin wears his underwear and sweater and pants in record speed before going back to the living room. Toshio is there lazily flipping the channels in the TV, already lounging under the warm kotatsu and his favorite snacks ready on the table. The sight of it makes him even more annoyed.

“Toshio. Why did you swap my sweater with yours?” He says suddenly with his deep monk voice, making Toshio visibly jump. Toshio has his dark turtleneck wool sweater on, so Seishin has to wear a not-wool, not-turtleneck brown sweater Toshio previously wore instead. The whole moment Seishin thought he was dealing with laundry was apparently him doing something else entirely.

Toshio points out, thrusting the remote control at Seishin. From how Toshio is leaning onto the carpeted floor it looks like he’s thrusting the remote control at Seishin’s crotch instead. “I have less fat, so I have to wear a thicker sweater.”

These days Seishin will have perfected the eye-rolling Toshio has taught him. “We have three more wool sweaters. And you also swapped my pants with yours which you obviously didn’t need to do.”

“Yours is obviously already warm.”

“You still didn’t need to swap the pants.” Seishin sighs again which has less to do with Toshio stealing his clothes and more to do with Toshio just doing whatever he wants at the expense of other individuals. Which, a realization suddenly dawns on Seishin at the sight of Toshio decked in Seishin’s clothes with kind-of-guilty-but-also-obnoxious expression on his face. The sweater looks bigger on Toshio’s body, the man being thinner and narrower in the shoulder. The seams of the shoulders sag more, and the turtleneck is drawn up to cover Toshio’s jaw. Seishin’s now suddenly very aware of Toshio’s smell engulfing him from the sweater he wears just like Toshio’s now engulfed by Seishin’s own smell through the sweater he now wears. 

A silence settles for a minute between them.

Seishin sighs, but a certain bodily reaction in him has made itself known. “It’s like you are telling me you want to be hugged or so, even though you made it into an impulsive prank.” The baser part of his brain obviously likes the turn of events though.

Toshio may or may not realize what’s happening, though he cringes a bit at what Seishin thinks is his own sudden realization. “….If I kiss you will you shut up?”

“Isn’t that because you’re the one who wants to be kissed?”

“Grr, will you shut up and just come here?”

Seishin does. Their lips meet as Seishin’s knees touch the floor, blunt but without heat. It soon changes though as sensuality creeps in, as if a switch has been flipped, as they are reacquainted with each other’s taste – but nothing is hurried between them, as if they are aware they have all the time in the world. To be honest, Seishin feels somehow they do. They’ve always been intertwined with one another in one constant, smooth stretch of fate. Born in the same year, in the same place, and having spent the years almost consistently together, he feels like they’re born for one another. 

It’s something gentle, this thing between them is. It’s gentle tides lapping at the shore, barely abrasive except for years down the road. It’s a soft breeze that tickles the skin, the kind you seek out as you lay down after a laborious day. It’s soft grass under your feet as you finally come upon a patch of unclaimed land, just existing in humility amidst the hustle and bustle of the world, It’s the morning sun that appears as the rest of mist is lifted, like gently removing a gauze after the wound underneath is healed. 

It’s not an all-consuming fire but a water trickling gently along its course. It’s in the steady heartbeat and flowing blood inside the veins, in the steady thrum of electricity of the nervous system. It’s in the second ticking by second, minute folding into hour, as slow and sure as the turn of time and season.

When they come to their breaths quicken and mingle, with their hard ons trapped under fabrics – but they find themselves not in any hurry still, just quietly enjoying the feel of each other. Seishin has his hands grasping tightly on his sweater on Toshio’s body, feeling weirdly possessive. Toshio has buried his warm nose where Seishin’s neck meets his shoulder, feeling like he’s just ten minutes away from marking a pale neck. The calmness will change in time but they have all night. 

“…You missed the documentary, you know.” Toshio says, intertwining his skinny legs with Seishin’s.

Seishin doesn’t care about a damn TV program. “I don’t want to watch anything now.”

“Hmm.” Toshio mulls as he separates himself a bit, feeling somehow conscious. “It’s been a while, huh.”

Seishin is the one with more needs, so yes. He secretly keeps track and takes care of the rest himself. “A week? But –”

“It’s decently warm now, but we should move. I don’t want to soil the damn carpet. It’s not cheap to have it cleaned.”

Seishin sputters, but he also stifles a laugh. He remembers one memorable event when they did in fact soil the very carpet they lie on, some of it not just come. Someone had too many ideas at that time.

Toshio points out. “Or bathroom. You know, you like doing it there.” 

Seishin’s foot slips at the carpet at that. They’re not exactly young which speaks of some experience, but they don’t exactly make it a habit to discuss sex. Between them is mostly quiet sessions, though Toshio also loves to tease at the more susceptible party and enjoys seeing him get all bothered. 

“…Toshio, it’s all cold now there. And there’s barely any room.”

Toshio clicks his tongue. Seishin is still hot and bothered, so it annoys him a bit that Toshio could calm himself down in a short time. “When it’s time to get our own place I’ll look for ones with good bathroom size. I bet you’ll like it, because while one of us is soaking the other ca–”

Seishin probably growls a bit as he drags Toshio to their bedroom with a newfound superhuman strength. Toshio, the bastard, just smirks like an obnoxious guy who gets off of riling people up.


	4. Incense (+ Sickness)

Toshio and Seishin obviously don’t have a family altar since they live in an apartment, though one thing they do have is an incense burner.

The incense burner is a vintage piece, though nothing fancy. It’s round and dull, dark metal held by short engraved feet about three to four generations old. Toshio first found it unused and collecting dust in the storage room of Muroi family home and immediately asked if he could bring it to Fukuoka, going as far as asking Seishin’s mother personally. 

Seishin was perhaps only imagining it, but he thought Toshio looked solemn as he carried it in and lit up the first incenses to be put there, as if he knew the item he was holding was once a prized treasure.

The incense burner sees its use when Toshio particularly needs to refresh himself, he says. He also always uses incenses used by the Muroi family temple. The sight always strikes Seishin as oddly spiritual, even as Toshio uses it for unconventional purposes, even as Toshio himself is no active believer. But he supposes it’s precisely why it’s all the more genuine and organic.

This afternoon Toshio burns some incenses again. It’s a pretty futile attempt since Toshio has had a flu since two days, so he can’t really smell anything. He’s still stubborn about it though. “Grr….”

Seishin regards the sight almost pityingly. “Shouldn’t you lie down?”

Toshio’s voice turns nasal as he speaks. “My fever has broken, but this stuffed nose is really annoying.”

“Do you have medicines to take?”

Toshio stares on, irritated, as he fiddles with the medicine box to search for what he has in mind. Seishin watches him silently but firmly until Toshio gulps them down with water. 

“If you’re annoyed about being sick, you can take you medicine dutifully.”

Toshio looks on challengingly at him, but this is one among many topics Seishin refuses to budge from. It didn’t use to be, but it changed ever since Toshio contacted a hospital-associated pneumonia nearly a year ago. It started off as a mundane flu before spiraling off into a dangerous pneumonia just in the span of a few days, so bad he could only breathe via ventilator for several long days that felt like eternity. It had weakened his lungs considerably, though being a heavy smoker had probably caused the problem in the first place. Seishin had been his primary caregiver at that time – not legally kin but allowed in by Toshio’s own parents via a great strike of luck, who had to pull some rank for it – as something had shifted when they witnessed him about panicking as Toshio went into respiratory failure. 

It’s easy these days for Toshio to catch a flu, and he has had to quit smoking too – or at the very least to curb it to nearly nothing. Of course he tried to sneak off the first few weeks in, but Seishin got so upset about it that he mostly stopped doing it. Aromatics and aromatherapies are poor substitute for smoking, but it’s what’s still allowed, and Toshio stopped trying to sneak of altogether the moment they brought the incense burner into their small home.

The medicine works pretty fast, and soon Toshio lets out a relieved sigh as he could breathe from the nose and smell the incense again.

Seishin silently gives him his mug of hot tea afterwards, and Toshio breathes in the steam rising off it. He doesn’t like this particular tea, but he drinks it anyway because it makes Seishin sigh in relief.

“What do you want to eat?”

Another thing that has had to change is Toshio’s bad eating habit – and by that it means Toshio could hardly eat or drink for a day especially if he’s engrossed in work or hobbies. He can also be a picky eater, so if the food being prepared isn’t up to his taste he could just not eat at all. On another side if the food he really likes is around he could eat it for days on end. It’s fortunate enough that most of Miwako’s recipes work on him, so Seishin has been cooking from them a lot. Obviously he often misses on some details, since some of the ingredients can only be obtained back home – but Toshio mainly just thrusts his chopsticks at him and begins to point out every differences or missed detail while still finishing everything. He does recognize efforts though, and he will eat them as long as they don’t have things he actively hates. Though he’ll just relocate them to Seishin’s bowl (“You cooked, so you are responsible for finishing it.”).

Their dinner is noodle with dark soup, with Kagoshima-raised pork pieces and salad and pickles. Hometown food is one of the best cures for sickness after all.

They set for an early rest afterwards. Seishin has brought in a few books to read, his own work put temporarily on hold. He thinks Toshio is already asleep from the meds because he’s been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time Seishin tidies some of the laundry up, but apparently the man has been observing him silently. The patience soon ends though as Toshio pats at his side of the bed expectantly, asking him to finish up the work quick or just leave it be.

Sleeping isn’t what he has in mind, though. He wants Seishin to just sit up propped on the headboard with pillows, before softly resting his head on Seishin’s lap. Blinking, Seishin just looks down at the expectant face questioningly. 

“Read to me from one of the books.”

Seishin tilts his head. “But these are my books. You won’t like anything in here.”

Toshio just tsks. “Whatever is fine, because I don’t look to understand anyway. But you have a good storytelling voice.”

Seishin blushes a bit at that. He indeed does as has been pointed out by many – he’s trained himself to chant sutra in an agreeable way from his monk days, and he’s had his share of storytelling from volunteering in libraries or hospitals and even as a guest dubber in local broadcasting houses. 

He picks up the least complicated book. It’s a debut work of a rising young name, about a teenaged boy who wanders off to find home. It fits since he hasn’t read it at all, so Toshio has a chance to read from the start too. He even ends up genuinely intrigued, as the world around them dissipates and unfolds into a small town in northern Japan, as they delve into the inner thoughts of a boy who finds himself orphaned even if his parents still exist. For Toshio finds himself frowning or blinking at the boy’s every cry or yell, and smiling as the boy finds a new family in the most unexpected places.

Somewhere into the book, Toshio has directed Seishin’s left hand to softly run through his hair. The soothing movement seems to lull him even more into the deep cadence of Seishin’s voice, and at some point Toshio has pulled a blanket on them both. Seishin keeps himself at the two tasks, as he’s lost in the feel of Toshio’s surprisingly soft hair, and as he himself is lost in the boy’s silent plea.

It’s a thin book, so he reaches the end pretty fast. Just three pages before the end he looks down only to notice that Toshio is already fast asleep with his arm linked round Seishin’s waist. He regards that sight with softly – petting his hair once again, twice again, softly, softly – before lowering his voice for the final stretch of the boy’s journey. He closes the book in content, knowing the boy is safe with a newfound family who loves him as he is. In the end though the boy is only a fictional character without any real value. He puts it aside to regard his own living treasure in his lap, sleeping soundly with his lungs clear, and wonders if his precious too has found a home.

He turned off the reading lamp, but he doesn’t move so as to not disturb the man who is a treasure most of all. Closing his eyes with his heart full to the brim, he too is happy because he has at last found home right where he is at. Tomorrow would soon come and days would roll away, and someday they would perish too – someday Toshio too will stop breathing and not come out of it squinting into Seishin’s crying face, because he too is no longer there at his side – but for now this moment between them is eternal.

The future them will face the future as it comes to them, inevitable – but the current them will hold onto the current moment and make it lasts forever.


	5. Cigarette

Going home today is much like a thief on a mission, Toshio feels. He’s been feeling a certain itch for some time, and no matter what he does it isn’t apparently going away anytime soon – that is, though if Toshio wants to be honest it’s not actually, wholly correct. It’s more sufficient to say that it’s a specific itch that can only be solved by a specific solution. 

It will be tricky to go about it, though. After all, gone are the days when Toshio would smoke like there’s no tomorrow and Seishin who doesn’t even think twice about it, being a passive smoker himself. These days if he tries the same stunt ever again Seishin would just lock up into himself, clearly upset and perhaps halfway into panic. Honestly it would make Toshio feel so bad that the few drags he’s had taken from his cig no longer even feel that good.

(In retrospect, of course he remembers how ill he was not too long ago. He sure as hell knows that his lungs would perhaps never fully recover from the whole ordeal. That doesn’t stop him, though.)

Tonight he just needs it so, so bad, he promises just a few drags and then he’d be done. Or perhaps one full cigarette if he’s lucky, who knows? Seishin’s currently out and he’ll be back pretty late. He estimates he has about one, maybe two hours at most though he’s not pushing his luck. He also needs to arrange the time to change his clothes, dump his smelly clothes into washing machine, and probably take a short shower to destroy as much evidence as possible. If someone sees all of that he might think he’s exaggerating, but he’s really not. That’s how dire the situation is.

For extra measure he’s even asked Seishin to buy some things for him, just to make sure (ugh, he feels a little bad already. Ugh).

This whole matter involves tricking Seishin twice, after all. The man thinks there’s no place in the apartment where Toshio can hide his stack anymore (who knows that he can be this zealous anyway??) but he turns out to be quite wrong. It’s the most obvious place that’s often overlooked. He’s been gambling the whole time, but if Seishin finds out he’s been hiding a whole secret package in a bookshelf of all places he really is going to hang him.

Shutting himself out in the balcony of their twelfth floor apartment, the first (sinful) drag of the cigarette is so heavenly he actually moans into it. He does cough a bit at that, but he doesn’t mind it as he takes another sweet time to fill his lungs with smoke before exhaling. The sky is now getting a bit dark, but he’s not in any hurry to turn on the light yet.

Feeling immediately calm, Toshio now takes lazy drags as he turns toward his plants. He and Seishin take care of a few potted plants there – or probably quite a lot, considering how cramped the initially large-ish space could feel. They don’t know precisely when they started to acquire this hobby, even when they only take care of easier plants and that they are never very good at gardening – but Toshio at least knows that he’s used to being surrounded by plants and forests and how homely they could feel. Perhaps Seishin is also similar.

It was spring, and thus some of their potted plants are in bloom. Toshio admires them while considering which potted plants are to switch with the ones they’re keeping indoor currently. Deciding on a couple, he turns to trek back to the living room – before immediately tripping on a potted plant as it feels like lightning has just struck him on the spine.

There Seishin is, standing before him stiffly – completely unannounced and stealthy as if he’s just popped right there like a righteous, punishing Buddha.

Caught red-handed, Toshio gulps. Has he been so engrossed he doesn’t even hear that an adult man was entering the house and opening the balcony door to stand behind him? Then he remembers he’s left his fucking phone in the living room too. The cigarette is still wedged tightly between his teeth, already halfway down. He’d tear it away and hurl it to the sky if not for how slow the time has seemed to be around them, what with them both frozen to the spot. Toshio is all nervous sweat and wide eyes, Seishin a cold mouth and static eyes that hide a force to be reckoned with. 

Toshio has a bad, bad feeling about this. 

This stony and stoned, cold righteous fury that emanates off Seishin? It’s his least ever favorite. He knows how to deal with temper tantrum and screaming match partly because he also uses them, and perhaps he’s been lucky that Seishin most often just resorts to heated argument (and panicked explosion once) when it concerns this matter of smoking. In all honesty it makes him feel horrible, but he knows how to deal with it – which is most important. It’s all to make him stand afloat and not look like he’s threatened to sink under the blazing emotions. But this??

This cold anger is Seishin’s original brand, and it’s the one he’s polished to perfection. No matter what you did you know you’ve fucked big time when faced with Seishin in this mode. No matter how small or big the matter is objectively that it could be debated with common sense and logic, it ultimately loses to Seishin’s final judgment. No matter how slight the offense is to Toshio personally Seishin would take it as the highest of crime possible, and he knows he has no choice but to accept that judgment. In fact, he’s perhaps been accepting it since he returned to their home newly recovered from nearly fatal pneumonia, and with Seishin holding onto him like a lifeline. He might have tried to rebel against it a few times, but he’s accepted the judgment. 

He won’t dare say anything, and he won’t even try to defend himself. He could only stand there waiting for due punishment.

The ashes at the tip of his cigarette rapidly accumulate, the smoke wasted to the air during the whole time. They fall eventually – Seishin’s eyes flash seeing them, causing the hairs on Toshio’s nape stand on end and his legs nearly shaking from the force of it.

What happens next proves too much that it flits past Toshio’s head at the same time it’s seared into it forever.

As fast as light but as slow and steady as a rock, Seishin slips one index finger and middle finger to circle around the cigarette – cold fingers not close enough to touch the skin – and drags it out, his sure movement full of silent command that speaks of another wave of cold anger if it isn’t heeded. Toshio lets him do that, then, heart pounding mad against his ribcage as if threatening to jump up his throat. He doesn’t know what Seishin is going to do, but he’ll accept it – even if it means severe punishment, he feels. 

However, it seems like the universe is conspiring to throw him off his guard. Seishin does nothing of what he expects – killing the cigarette or even throwing it away – but he manages to do one thing he wouldn’t expect in one hundred years; in slow-motion, as it seems, smoothly lifting the filter up his mouth and taking a drag, all with his eyes never leaving his. 

The sight enraptures him. Seishin, despite having been around him all his life, has never actually tried to smoke before. He seems to find it not to his liking similar to how he regards alcohol, though deeply tolerating it in other people. And yet, perhaps because he’s known him so intimately and all his habits, he takes to this new task as if he’s already become good at it; a long, slow and savory drag, only stopping to exhale when the lungs have maxed out on their capacity. 

What catches his breath the most is the expression, however. It’s the eyes that bore deeply and intensely into his under long eyelashes (the green-ish color of his irises that he’s sure he can see clearly under the dim light is so curious, curious), the facial muscles that are drawn tightly but relaxed at the same time. The long line of a pretty nose, now surrounded by smoke that blends into pale skin, and the reddish lips that curl around the cigarette in what he thinks a studious moue.

Toshio has smoked the first half, leaving the last half to Seishin – which he completes right up until he kills the butt in a forgotten ashtray near them. The spell is broken as he does that, leaving Toshio feeling deeply unsettled but also weirdly released. Only then he feels he could move.

Toshio isn’t prepared for the sight that waits for him as he wills Seishin to turn, however – the despair and desperation on his face, a fear so blatant he could taste it as it leaks out and drips away. Every feeling ingrained there that he knows for sure is for Toshio himself and not necessarily, Seishin. 

“I watched you nearly die…”

Toshio truly understands it, then. He understands it when Seishin curls his fingers tightly around the fabric of his clothes, drawing him in. He understands it then when soft, red lips claim his forcefully and desperately, familiar nicotine on the inside of his mouth. He understands it then when a hand grasps at the back of his head, around his shoulders, down to his thigh before dragging him inside. 

The ‘sorry’ has never made it out of his lips, contained, but Seishin takes it out of him all the same – as if he’s known it there all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congrats toshio your ass is now a deadass


End file.
